"Yoli. Yoli, come on, wake up. Say something to me."

Lizetta's hands were trembling, her voice shattered. She couldn't bring herself to touch Yolanda, fearing she might shatter her into pieces.

How could there be so much blood? Such a torrent flowing from beneath Yoli's head.

"Somebody help! Please, someone save her."

Her vision blurred, everything around her seemed to dissolve into ghostly shadows, a vast emptiness swirling before her eyes.

Only the glaring red beneath Yolanda stood out, so vivid, so scarlet.

It was all her fault. She knew it was reckless, yet she insisted on throwing this damned wedding, and now Yolanda was paying the price because of her.

"Liz."

he caught sight of Yolanda

pristine white into a haunting red, clenched his heart

he'd ever felt, but one thing was crystal clear in his mind: Yolanda

to happen to Yolanda, he

swiftly tearing a piece of fabric to carefully lift Yolanda's head, pressing down on the wound to stop

a doctor! Now!" At the same time, he barked orders at the flustered hotel

the manager snapped back to

be scared. The doctors are on their way, and so

loathing and coldness, sharp and piercing, as

gentle and meek, avoiding conflict, never taking initiative to stir up

at anyone with such deep disdain and almost hatred, especially not

looked at him that way, as if she wanted

her say in a voice foreign and hoarse, "Don't touch her

while Lizetta looked around

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